


Masquerade

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, M/M, MTMTE, Masquerade, Masturbation, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This... didn't turn out so well as I had hoped but... Oh, well. Can't always succeed. : )</p></blockquote>





	Masquerade

Swerve’s was cramped with mechs wearing capes and cloaks. Not to mention the strange masks attached to everyone’s faces. There were all kinds of masks; ones that covered half the face, ones that hid the face entirely, ones with exaggerated accessories such as steel feathers and ones you held up from a handle.

Ratchet couldn’t believe the certain sword wielding mech had managed to talk him into coming to a masquerade party. Though, it had taken much persuasion... Speaking of Drift: where was he? It wasn’t impossible to tell who was who despite the capes and cloaks and masks but the white mech a bad tendency to disappear whenever he wanted. Plus, he hadn’t told the medic anything about his mask or outfit. And that frustrated Ratchet.

He tried to spot a flash of a white finial or a glimpse of a determined gait as he made his way to the bar, ordering himself a glass of high grade.

“Coming right up, doc”, Swerve beamed, his visor gleaming through the hole in his green mask.

Ratchet scanned the crowed once more while waiting for his drink to show up.

But nothing so far.

“I’m glad you came.”

The medic started at the sudden soft voice on his right. Turning, he saw Drift – he could recognize the shape of those finials (even though they were covered) and that shy smile anywhere – dressed in dark gray cloak with the hood pulled over his head and a crimson and golden mask covering his face.

Drift’s blue optics were downright blazing through the holes of his mask, the crimson giving a stunning contrast to the already piercing gaze. The mask itself was fairly decorated; a small golden crest at the very top, pearlescent crimson around the optics and the same golden color continuing down the forehead on the nose. The decorations were also golden, the flourishing travelling around the crimson areas and the edges of the mask. The mask made Drift look like one of those owl creatures that Ratchet had seen on vids from Earth.

Ratchet couldn’t voice his astonishment for a moment and the lithe mech chuckled at that.

“I’ll take you silence as an approval. You look amazing as well”, he said and sat next to the other mech, gesturing Swerve for a drink.

The red and white mech disagreed in his mind. His silver gray cape and the very simple and barely decorated black mask were nothing compared to Drift’s appearance.

As if sensing Ratchet’s discomfort, the swordsmech placed his hand on the red one and started stroking the smooth surface with his thumb, his EM field pulsing and nudging against Ratchet’s own calmly.

“I love your outfit”, he purred and flashed a genuinely happy and warm smile.

Ratchet merely grunted in return and took a sip from his glass. The stroking on the back of his hand was tender and sent slight tingling sensation up his sensornet. If Drift was going to get the grumpy mech revved up, he was doing a great job. You know... the thing with a medic’s hands being sensitive and all that slag.

The smaller mech seemed to be oblivious about Ratchet’s slowly growing charge as he received his drink and took a small sip, his other hand still resting on the red one, the thumb still making tiny circles.

“Kid, I–”

Drift hushed him by gently pressing his index finger on the medic’s lips and retrieving it as quickly back only to make room for his lips.

The red and white mech felt Drift’s tongue flicking against his lips as in testing him if this was all right to do. Parting his lips, Ratchet gave his companion the permission to proceed, sweeping their tongues against one another, different tastes mixing with each other.

Groaning deeply as Drift snaked his free hand up his left thigh, the larger mech broke the kiss, leaving swordsmech baffled. “Not here”, he growled and looked around if someone saw them. Everybody seemed to be busy doing something else. Good.

He got up and took Drift’s hand, dragging the swordsmech after him.

When they reached Ratchet’s hab suite, the medic practically threw the other mech in and strode in to pin Drift against the wall, his arousal so great and easily felt through his EM field it scared him. Though, the white mech didn’t seem to care if the burning desire in his optics was anything to go by...

Locking their lips together, Drift started grinding shallowly against Ratchet’s pelvis, the undulating motion causing the larger mech’s lust to flare.

“Ratch~” Drift gasped as the pulsating sensation caressed him both in- and outside.

“Hold on, kid. We’re not rushing this, now are we?”

To that, he got a firm shake of the white head, the finials exaggerating the movement.

Starting his own slow thrusting against Drift, Ratchet’s hands roamed around the other’s waist to grope and cup the round aft he loved oh so much, earning a long moan, the luscious hips pushing back to the touch. He then lifted his other hand to that golden and red mask to take it off but the younger mech stopped him.

“The masks stay on. It’s forbidden to take them off during the occasion. That, and it’s rather arousing”, he purred, biting down on his lower lip as a whimper escaped his vocalizer. Oh, Primus, Ratchet had found a spot between his leg and his pelvis, near his interface area. Do that again! Oh, _please do that again~_

Ratchet picked up the sudden rush of lust coming from Drift and tweaked the spot until Drift felt like overloading then and there. But then the touching ceased, the teasing fingers retreating to rest on his hips, leaving him overcharged but nowhere near overloading.

“Let’s take this to berth; otherwise my joints will complain tomorrow”, the red and white mech murmured, his lips brushing slightly Drift’s.

“Okay”, Drift sighed, letting himself be led to the berth.

The older mech settled on his back, ushering Drift to climb on top of him.

“I’ve always wanted to try one thing”, he chuckled as he pulled Drift closer to seal their lips.

“And what–” A kiss, “–would that–” A longer one, “–possibly be?” Tongues gliding over one another, mesmerizing the texture and taste, lips worshipping each other...

Breaking the kiss, Ratchet placed his hands again on Drift’s aft and guided him to sit over his face. Once the lovely hips were close enough, he gave a long lick across the warm plating, smiling as he heard a groan above him, the sound encouraging him to coax the hatch to open.

Drift searched for the other’s gaze and when their optics met, that was all he needed to open his panel, a single bead of lubricant already dropping to Ratchet’s lips. A tongue flicked out to lick it off only to continue its journey to the plush valve lips while the red hands wrapped around Drift’s thighs, caressing the inner plating there.

Closing his optics, the medic ran his tongue over the lips to suckle one of them, humming in approval as the younger mech moaned. He probed the entrance just right out of reach for Drift to clench around him, his lips flush against the valve, the bridge of his nose brushing gently the anterior node. Drift’s spike nudged its panel in interest, wanting to get some attention, too.

“Ratch...”

Frag, that voice. It was making wonders to his spike which twitched behind his panel, already pressurized and primed for action.

The swordsmech leaned back to his arms thus giving the larger mech a better access who took it with gratitude by shoving his tongue as deep as he could.

Drift flinched as the sudden intruder found its way in but sighed immediately after as the walls of his valve and the nodes within were stimulated. He watched the utter satisfactory expression on Ratchet’s face and brought his right hand to the white chevron, running his fingers along the sharp tip to the base and back up, repeating until he heard a soothing click behind his back.

Leaning further back, the white mech left the chevron alone and instead slid his fingers along the underside of the spike, his palm pressing against the shaft, forcing the tip to bend towards him. He managed to caress the spike a brief moment before the mech under him grunted and swatted his hand away but not displeased in any way. The medic wanted Drift to focus completely on being the receiving end and not to do anything in return, only to feel good.

And feel good Drift did. So very good~ Freeing his aching spike, the white mech rubbed the tip, spreading some transfluids around it before beginning to pump it slowly.

A high-pitched whimper slipped past his lips when Ratchet started licking at his anterior node, the sensors there erupting with sensation because of the simple stimuli. Parting his thighs more, Drift sank closer to Ratchet’s face, his hips moving ever so slightly to meet with the older mech’s tongue. 

They sure were making a huge mess but who cared. Drift certainly did not, the fluids gushing from his valve and spike to stain the medic’s face and forehead. Ratchet gave a few long licks to Drift’s valve, making sure he reached every sensitive spot he could find, fighting the urge to add a finger or two to accompany his tongue. Apparently his tongue alone was enough to bring Drift to a whimpering, moaning buddle of pleasure... The way his body would shudder, the way his mouth would open into a moan, the way his thighs quivered...

Unable to take it anymore, the red and white mech moved his right hand down his body to stroke his rigid spike, moaning with his mouth full of Drift as his spike jumped in his touch. Working his mouth and tongue, he could taste the smaller mech was close, the charge tingling around him. 

Deciding to concentrate on the anterior node, Ratchet sucked and licked in turn, enjoying the frantic ‘There! Oh, my Primus, there! Yes! Yes!’ shouts that Drift let loose, his grip on his own spike tightening.

On the corridor Tailgate and Cyclonus were making their way to their hab suite when Tailgate heard a muffled high keen and a low moan behind the door. His visor flashed brighter and he covered his mask with his hand. Not daring to stay, he dashed after Cyclonus, falling mute. Though, the purple mech had heard it, too, but remained silent as they walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> This... didn't turn out so well as I had hoped but... Oh, well. Can't always succeed. : )


End file.
